


you can exponential my potential (wait, what?)

by InsanelyYours96



Series: knockin' you in to a new dimension [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Werewolf Stiles Stilinski, Cuddling, Developing Relationship, Dimension Travel, Dirty Talk, Good Peter, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Pet Names, Reassuring Peter, Relationship Advice, Scent Marking, Stiles Has Panic Attacks, Stiles Stilinski is a Tease, barely there but yes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-16 12:36:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14811497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsanelyYours96/pseuds/InsanelyYours96
Summary: Stiles-wolf smiled at Peter toothily, seeming unbothered when he shifted almost anxiously. “I’m sure you’ll agree, our smells compliment each other rather well. That’s what attracted you to us in the first place, after all.”“I’m sure it’s different in your—dimension, or whatever—but in this ‘verse, Peter tolerates me. Some days. If I offer chocolate first.”Stiles-wolf laughed brightly. “You are so wrong right now, I love it.”





	you can exponential my potential (wait, what?)

The day started out terribly.

Peter woke up to the neighbors dog, usually so well-behaved, yipping and running down the street sans leash, owner yelling after him. When he went to find a fresh tube of toothpaste he accidentally knocked his toothbrush into the trash can. And all his cashmere was dirty because he had put off laundry, which meant he was stuck in a v-neck instead of his normal Sunday comfort clothes.

All little things, but when pushed together it meant he was in no mood to deal with the boy when Stiles burst in at eleven o’clock and started rambling about the movies they had yet to watch.

Peter, in no mood for any such thing, steals his Reeses, throws a book on the couch, and tells him to be quiet.

Stiles glares at him, indignant, but whatever he sees on Peter’s face—and he looks for a long while—makes him huff, nod, and sit. His face lights up when he looks at the book's title, his scent brightening the room with happiness and contentment.

That alone is enough to somewhat lighten Peter’s own sour mood.

And then, just as Peter is settling with his own book and a cup of tea, there’s a bright flash of light and a stranger is strutting into his living room.

Well, not exactly a stranger, because it looks like Stiles, almost perfectly _smells_ like Stiles, and grins at them both like this is a completely normal coincidence.

“Get to the part about multi-dimensions?” He asks casually, with a typical shit-eating grin.

Stiles blinks at him, mouth hanging open in surprise.

Then he shuts it, grins, and decides that Peter’s apartment is the perfect location for he and his apparent dimension hopping counterpart to talk.

(Not that Peter isn’t curious, but still. Rude.)

“You’re a wolf,” Peter says, while the intruder makes himself comfortable on the opposite loveseat.

“Yup,” Stiles-wolf says, popping the ‘p’ and flashing his claws demonstratively. “I’ll tell you guys all about it, I guess. But I’m way more interested in what my magic twin extraordinaire here can do?”

Stiles hummed, eyeing the claws with interest. “Well there’s the ability to break mountain ash, always helpful.”

His alternate smirked. Stiles eyed it, then sighed. “But of course you’d find a way to do that, anyway.”

“Not to worry,” the wolf consoled, “I have no access to my rightful magic as a born Spark. I thought I might find a way around it eventually, but it’s either the bite or “You’re a wizard, Harry,” and I didn’t really get much of a choice, so I’m making the best of it.”

“You certainly are,” Peter purred suggestively, and both Stiles and the wolf rolled their eyes simultaneously. Rude again.

But Peter was fascinated by the situation, odd as it was, and he was drinking his calming tea. The day might not be totally unsalvageable.

“Just because I smell like you doesn’t mean we’ve been doing the horizontal tango,” the wolf huffed. When he turned to Peter there was a familiar glint of mischief in his eyes, and his brows swayed exaggeratedly. “Just that you’re a cuddler.”

“Knew it,” Stiles mumbled triumphantly, only realizing both could hear him seconds later and shrugging, unashamed. “What? _You_ know you’re a cuddler, and you’ve seen the cuddly clothes he wears—nobody's giving him warm hugs so he’s getting it from his cashmere. If there wasn’t a 57% chance he would tear out my throat if I tried to hug him I would be all aboard the cuddle train.”

Peter twitched, looking more than a little taken aback, though whether that was because Stiles had noticed or because Peter was always up for a cuddle was unclear.

Stiles-wolf hummed consideringly. “Well he did fracture my arm the first time I hugged him, and that was with a pre-existing pack bond, so…”

Stiles nodded. “Thought so. 57% chance of death, 98% chance of injury. I’ve already got enough aches from broken bones, thanks.”

“Oh, shit,” Stiles-wolf laughed. “Major downside, bro. You already have to deal with the leg, arm, and wrist, plus whatever other shit you get hit with in the line.”

“Oh you fucker,” Stiles huffed. “You’re saying that like it all went away. It did, didn’t it? No more rainy day blues?”

The wolf grinned, shrugging. “Not right away, no. I got a little upgrade.”

He flashes red eyes, and Stiles smiles, unsurprised, even as Peter makes a confusing noise, somewhere between a whine and a growl.

“Cool it, Cujo, I’m here to bond with magic-me, not... whatever you’re imagining.”

He turns back to Stiles. “I mean, I _could_ bite you, but I’m fairly certain you’re happy as is.”

“Yeah, keep your fangs to yourself, dude. If I wanted to be a werewolf, I would be one by now.”

Stiles-wolf acquiesced easily, leaning back into the couch cushions. He looked between Peter and Stiles thoughtfully, noting the distance.

“So what’s this? You obviously don’t hate him if you’re considering cuddle-time, and he doesn’t particularly smell like violence—not that that’s saying much, believe me.”

Stiles glanced over, meeting Peter’s eyes. The wolf couldn’t seem to choose between watching Stiles-wolf warily or staring at him, as was his usual past time. Stiles rolled his eyes at him.

“What, you need our official Facebook relationship status? We’re allies, I guess. I mean, he brings me coffee and I share my Reese’s.”

“You share your—you realize that move didn’t work on Lydia, right?”

“There’s a difference between pointing out the ‘opposites are a great combo’ thing, and exchanging goods. I mean, he never has Reese’s around. He’s a glutton and eats them, like, immediately. Zero self control, zero sharing. It’s probably his least redeeming quality.”

“I mean, I don’t know about your Peter but mine is a serious blanket hog, so there’s that too.”

Peter stared at the two of them, looking rather bemused. “I’ve killed, you realize,” he drawled, probably just to be a dick.

“You avenged your loved ones, Peter. I’d hardly call that a con.”

Peter turned to his Stiles, but the teen just shrugged. “I agree. If you stopped with Kate and left Lydia and Scott alone, I never would’ve had a problem with your actions.”

At this, Stiles-wolf turned to face his counterpart fully, eyes glowing faintly. “Speaking of Scott, you know leaving him an Alpha will end well for nobody.”

Stiles sighed, scrubbing the back of his head. “I’ve been trying to come up with something, but…”

“You don’t want to betray your friend. I get it, dude. But I know you’ve thought about this—his black and white naïveté is just going to get innocent bystanders killed.”

“I—“

“Stiles, my dad is dead.”

Stiles froze, staring up at his counterpart with wide eyes, heart beating double time. He couldn’t breathe. He was dying. He would, instead of his dad. There was no way he could _live_ without----

“Shhh, shh, it’s okay, you’re okay, you’ve already dealt with the threat that got him, it’s fine, you’re fine, breathe for me…”

None of it broke through, not until long, thin fingers tangled in his hair and forced his head back. Whiskey eyes met whiskey. Stiles-wolf smiled down at him mournfully.

“It’s okay, Mieczyslaw. You’ve dealt with it. Jennifer is dead here, yeah?”

Stiles nodded a bit frantically, eyes shooting to Peter. “Yeah—yeah, Peter got her, she’s dead, she’s—you made sure she was actually dead, right?”

Peter was half-way out of his seat, brow creased in concern, hand twitching like it wanted to reach for him. “She’s dead, Stiles.”

“You hear that? You’re alright,” the Alpha near cooed, gentling his hold, stroking through Stiles’ hair in a gesture of comfort he hadn’t received since his mom died. “I’m sorry, Mieczyslaw, I didn’t—well, I _did_ mean to, I needed to make a point.”

Peter made that low, rumbling sound, and Stiles swallowed convulsively, trying not to cry. He felt overwhelmed, half furious, half like he should be the one doing the comforting here.

“That’s a pretty dick way to make your point,” he rasped out, grabbing the werewolf’s wrist and pulling him closer. He went along obligingly, letting Stiles wrap him in his arms. “You’re definitely my counterpart. I’m surprised you aren’t half-mad without your anchor.”

Stiles huffed a laugh against his ear, but didn’t pull away from the hug, taking the comfort offered and giving his own.

“Dad wasn’t my anchor.”

Stiles pulled back, a pained little wrinkle in his head. “Because—?”

“The wolf wouldn’t accept it,” Stiles explained gently. “It wanted somebody who would actually take care of us, if it was a person at all. I found a concept that worked much better for me, anyway.”

Stiles made a small sound in the back of his throat, but he recognized that he hadn’t been relying on his father for seven years. It wasn’t all that shocking that a primal part of himself would need something more stable than the absent, alcoholic Sheriff.

“That must’ve been a punch in the gut,” he murmured, squeezing one of his counterparts hands.

“It’s safer that way,” Peter contributed quietly. He was settled back onto the couch now, like he hadn’t moved to help Stiles in the first place. “People die. Ideas don’t.”

Stiles inclined his head, acknowledging the point. Harsh, but Peter had more likely than not learned that lesson the hard way. With all his pack burning around him.

There was a moment of silence, where they all just sort of looked at each other.

“I haven’t heard that name in a while,” Stiles finally said, running a hand through his hair.

Stiles-wolf smiled back. “I’ll bet. Peter can actually say it, after a few misses. Imagine my surprise when he called me that to get my attention on my first full moon.”

Stiles rose his brows. “Seriously? I’ve met Polish people who’ve had trouble.”

“What can I say, Peter’s good with his mouth,” Stiles-wolf shrugged casually.

Stiles gawked for a moment, then snorted. “Oh my God, seriously? That was so fucking smooth. Do you do that to fuck with the pack?”

Stiles-wolf gave Peter a shit-eating grin, but when Stiles glanced over the wolf had the same expression of casual disdain as always.

“Not really, I just like how he smells when I say shit like that.” The wolf winked at Peter. Peter rolled his eyes, looking away to Stiles. Stiles looked between them, pouting a bit.

“That’s so not fair, but whatever. Let’s talk about those red murder eyes of yours instead. Deucalion?”

“Yeah. There’s not much to tell, really. Bastard bit me without my consent. I got payback.”

Stiles doubted that. “Uh huh. And how did Peter enter the equation?”

“He’s my Beta,” the wolf explained. “He crept up on me after I finished disposing of Deucalion—scared the shit out of me—and I accidentally flashed my eyes. He went all boneless and wouldn’t quit whimpering until I scented him. It might’ve been cute, if he wasn’t half-feral at the time and actually had control of his actions. He didn’t even realize what happened until a few days later, when he woke up in my bed, in my clothes, in my _scent._ ”

Stiles-wolf smiled at Peter toothily, seeming unbothered when he shifted almost anxiously. “I’m sure you’ll agree, our smells compliment each other rather well. That’s what attracted you to us in the first place, after all.”

“I’m sure it’s different in your—dimension, or whatever—but in this ‘verse, Peter tolerates me. Some days. _If_ I offer chocolate first.”

Stiles-wolf laughed brightly. “You are so wrong right now, I love it.”

“Little shit,” Stiles muttered, reluctantly grinning back. “Well then, what does he smell like? Wait! What do I smell like? Nobody’s ever said. Is it super gross? Curly fries and sexual frustration?”

“Dork. Our scents aren’t actually identical, which I’m assuming is down to your Spark and not because I secretly smell like wet dog.”

Stiles-wolf leaned into his counterpart, nudging Stiles’ temple with his nose and inhaling deeply. “I’m almost too used to it to place, but... pumpkin, a hint of burnt wood—we have those in common. You’ve got an overlay of ozone, though.”

“You make me sound like a galactic cologne,” Stiles said, surprised. “Pumpkin? I guess I’m the Fall line.”

“Better than sexual frustration,” the wolf snorted. “Peter smells like cinnamon, the atmosphere right before it rains, and lavender. Together - well, cinnamon and pumpkin? _Perfect_ combination.”

“Ooh, hear that, creeper wolf? Our smells are suited.”

“Nothing I didn’t already know, sweetheart.”

Stiles grinned at him, then double taked. “Did you just call me sweetheart?”

Peter shrugged, though something smug lurked in his eyes.

“You started the pet names.”

“With _creeper wolf?_ Oh, yeah, that’s super flattering.”

“Awww, you smell embarrassed. How cute.”

Stiles leveled his counterpart with a look. “You really want to start fucking with each other?”

Stiles-wolf wiggled his brows suggestively instead of answering, and Stiles snorted. “Okay, not what I meant, but that’d be an interesting form of masterbation.”

“Can you imagine? ‘Who’d you lose your virginity to?’ ‘Myself.’”

“Oh, man. And here I thought we were talking about oral.”

The wolf clapped his hands dismissively. “Don’t tempt me, we both know how much I want to try that.”

Peter made another noise, this one less discernible. It sounded a bit pained, really. “You two are absolutely shameless,” he noted.

“Aww, come on, you’re an adult. Sex is natural, and all that.”

Wolf Stiles, on the other hand, looked very interested; where before he had only paid Peter attention is passing, most of his focus on Stiles, now he turned to face Peter fully. “I don’t think it’s that,” he said, when Stiles made an inquiring sound at his silence. “I think Peter _likes_ the thought of us together. On our knees. Sucking each other off— _oh_. That’s interesting. Dirty talk, too.”

“Oh my God, dude, stop trying to turn Peter on! That’s just—weird.”

“Weird because you like it too, or weird because you don’t want anybody else, even your counterpart, to talk to _your_ Peter like that?”

There was a beat of silence. Stiles flushed a bit at the feel of blue eyes boring into the side of his head, but refused to look, staring his counterpart down. After a moment the wolf blinked and glanced away, looking vaguely apologetic. Stiles didn’t trust it for a moment.

“Let’s get some food and you can tell me all about your pack dynamics. I’ve got some questions…”

“Same here,” the wolf grinned, dropping it easily. “Like, am I crossing into the Marvel verse here, or—”

Stiles held up a hand, shaking his head firmly. “Oh no no no. You’re in my world, dude, and _I_ am Batman.”

Stiles-wolf huffed, then grinned. “Fine, I’ll be Robin. It’ll be a nice vacation from being a complete badass.”

Stiles gave him a _look_ , then laughed. “Yeah, okay. Let’s eat.”

* * *

They had just finished their sandwiches and soda when Stiles addressed all the comments. Mostly because the wolf had just made yet another innuendo, and Peter Hale had actually  _blushed_.

Stiles had never seen Peter look even remotely disconcerted before, so the fact that his wolfy-twin was able to make Peter’s face do _that…_ well, it didn’t exactly sit well with him.

(He wasn’t jealous. Shut up.)

“Seriously, dude? What’s up. You said you and your Peter weren’t intimate and now you’re—” he made an encompassing, flailing gesture with his hands, raising his eyebrows meaningfully.

Wolf Stiles smiled somewhat sheepishly.

“Okay, so I may be not-so-subtly trying to push you guys together. And ignore the innuendo, it doesn’t even need to be sexual. Just - my Peter is so _good_ for me.” Something about that made the Hale beside him shiver, Stiles noted, eyes flicking to Peter and then back to his counterpart. “He helps, more than I can say, on the bad days. And I help on his. Just… you both deserve that, too. A blip of happiness amongst this shit storm.”

“I know I’m presuming a lot here, but that’s sort of my thing, and Peter is—” the Alpha looked, momentarily, overwhelmed. “ _Everything._ ”

There was a beat of silence.

Then Stiles let out a breath and reached out, dragging a hand through his counterparts slightly longer hair. “You really love him, huh?”

The wolf’s heartbeat quickened momentarily, before calming to a less alarming rhythm. “Yeah, I kinda do.”

“God this is weird,” Stiles grumbles, sounding more fond than annoyed. “You’re a freaking marshmallow, it’s actually offensive. Stop being a wimp and go confess, or whatever. If he says no, then get over it, take what you can get, and be his Alpha.”

“And Stiles?” Peter said, staring at the other wolf with intent eyes. “He won’t say no.”

The Alpha made a tense little noise, then released a huff of air and slumped into Stiles’ touch, almost nuzzling into his hand. “It’s gonna be so awkward,” he whined plaintively. “I really don’t wanna fuck this up, Stiles. He’s all I have left.”

Stiles ducked down, pushing his forehead to the wolf’s. Their stared into each others eyes, Stiles’ reading the others grief and fear of rejection and anxiety through the contact.

“Hey, hey, shh,” he cooed, rocking forward and brushing a kiss against his cheek. “It’s going to be fine, Mieczyslaw. Do you really think that Peter would throw you away, even if he isn’t interested? You two are _pack_. That means family, right? It means love, even if it’s just platonic. And really, isn’t platonic better than nothing?”

The wolf huffed, closing his eyes. “He wouldn’t, I know that. I’m not stupid. But I’m the Alpha, it’s just—irresponsible of me, isn’t it? To tell him? What if he feels pressured, or—I don’t know. I don’t want him to be put in that position.”

“Well if you won’t listen to him, listen to me,” Peter said, before Stiles could find a response. The wolf glanced at him, huffed, and nodded, pulling away from Stiles a bit.

“Yes, fine, and what is your brilliant advice?”

“I don’t do things I don’t want to,” Peter said firmly. “If Talia ever gave me an order I didn’t want to follow, you can be damn sure I pushed back. It was the same with my mother, with Derek, and of course I’ve never listened to Scott. Maybe it will make things uncomfortable—these things are typically awkward to start, when you’re still learning the other person and their boundaries—but I very much doubt he’ll refuse you, Stiles.”

“And if he does… well, you accepted him into your pack.” Peter’s eyes flashed that preternatural bright blue, and though his face was calm Stiles got the sense of something almost sad from him. “He won’t be cruel about it.”

Stiles-wolf made a soft, almost hurt sound, and nodded quickly. He stood, pacing away from the dining table, back turned to them.

“Okay. Okay. I should—I should go do this now, before I lose my nerve.”

“Do it,” Stiles encouraged, watching his back. “Is it weird to say it was good to know you? ...I had wondered.”

The wolf flashed a sharp smile over his shoulder, eyes flashing. “I had as well.”

He disappeared as abruptly as he came, in a spark of silver light. Stiles huffed at the display, catching Peter’s gaze.

“There’s only a eighty percent chance that was actually me,” he tells Peter, half-serious. “On one hand, he could pronounce our name. On the other, he left with a smooth one-liner. If that me, those dramatics are one hundred percent under your influence. I take no credit.”

Peter rolled his eyes at him, like there wasn’t a smirk pulling at his lips.

“Of course, sweetheart.” he patronized. “Now, perhaps you could continue that book on the other couch? All that he’s left is the smell of another wolf in my den.”

“Aww, poor baby. Want me to shower?”

“Hardly effective when you put on the same clothes,” Peter returned, in the same sardonic tone. “I doubt rubbing you down would even help, with how thoroughly you two kept plastering against the other.”

“Is that jealousy, Peter? You’ll give a boy ideas.” He wiggled his eyebrows as absurdly as his counterpart had. Peter smiled, there and gone in a flash.

“I promise I won’t break a limb if you touch me,” he stated baldly, grabbing the used plates and retreating to the kitchen before Stiles could respond.

He followed him anyway.

“ _Peter_ ,” Stiles said, low and delighted. “Are you giving me permission to _cuddle you_?”

Peter took a breath, settling the dishes into the sink before turning back to him. “Forget it.”

Stiles flailed forward, snatching up one of Peter’s hands, lightning quick. “Oh no you don’t. Permission can’t be rescinded whenever I’m an ass, otherwise there would be no permission to begin with. And there totally just was. Right?”

Peter stared at him for a long moment, eyes intent. Stiles’ words were rushed but his touch was gentle, the contact easy and warm. It wasn’t something he would turn down just because the boy suddenly decided it was okay to  _tease_ him.

“Yes, you have permission,” Peter said, raising a brow slowly. Stiles grinned at him, quick and sharp, and tugged until he stepped closer. A warm hand came up, rubbing his cheek lightly. Scenting him.

“Awesome. Because we still need to watch the last Harry Potter movie, and cuddling makes everything better—even an extremely shitty epilogue.”

“Very well,” Peter sighed, like he was put upon. But he’s the one that dragged Stiles close when they fell on the couch, who nudged Stiles’ temple with his nose, erasing the other wolf’s scent.

Stiles grabbed one of his hands and played with the fingers absently, leaning into Peter’s side like it was natural.

Peter hadn’t invited Stiles, and he certainly hadn’t invited a dimension hopping werewolf, but perhaps the day was not so bad as he originally considered it to be.

**Author's Note:**

> I stared at "Work Title" for like five minutes, scanning through this story, trying to come up with something cohesive. All I had was Cinnamon Pumpkin Sundays, which is a lot more fluffy than this, so I'mma just leave this be.
> 
> Do I make Stiles voice my opinions about Harry Potter too often? _Maybe_. But they are strong opinions that I need to vent somewhere so _letmelive_. I'm also writing a story where Stiles literally writes gay HP fanfic so there's that. I must be stopped. But I don't wanna be.
> 
> Honestly I know there are probably mistakes in this, and it's pretty rough. I threw segments around because it has been gathering dust for upwards of two years now and I don't want it to die. There are some pretty clear (to me, anyway) tonal shifts from where I've stopped it over the years and picked it back up. But I hope you guys enjoyed it regardless.
> 
> Like all of these dimensional stories I'm posting, this is it. No continuances, though I'll be editing mistakes as I find them and maybe fixing some word choices, once I'm more coherent and they've sat their long enough for you all to find them.
> 
> Happy shipping!


End file.
